Miss J. Hunter Dunn, Miss J. Hunter Dunn,
Furnish'd and burnish'd by Aldershot sun,
What strenuous singles we played after tea,
We in the tournament - you against me!
Love-thirty, love-forty, oh! weakness of joy,
The speed of a swallow, the grace of a boy,
With carefullest carelessness, gaily you won,
I am weak from your loveliness, Joan Hunter Dunn.
Miss Joan Hunter Dunn, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn,
How mad I am, sad I am, glad that you won,
The warm-handled racket is back in its press,
But my shock-headed victor, she loves me no less.
From A Subaltern's Love Song by John Betjeman
3 comments:
I think I caught this on the radio this morning. Was he in love with her but she was married to someone else?
You're hot off the mark aren't you, I'd only just posted and there was your comment!
For some reason that so reminds me of the A. A. Milne poem/song:
James James
Morrison Morrison
Weatherby George Dupree
Took great
Care of his Mother,
Though he was only three.
James James Said to his Mother,
"Mother," he said, said he;
"You must never go down
to the end of the town,
if you don't go down with me."
Hi, Liz. I've had great fun getting Ital students to repeat this all week! For rhythm it is perfect.
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